


baby, please come to me

by sauer (Showert_ime)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Angst, Cheesy, Comeplay, Drunken sex, Fingering, KaiSoo - Freeform, Kinda?, M/M, NOW ON FOR HAPPIER TAGS, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Romance, alcohol-induced illness, cheesy stuff, dont worry i dont mix sickness and sex, important, kaisoo everywhere, nope - Freeform, ok so, tw, tw for someone being sick bc of alcohol, what even, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Showert_ime/pseuds/sauer
Summary: kyungsoo drinks too much and regrets it, but he doesn't regret meeting jongin along the way.





	baby, please come to me

**Author's Note:**

> Please do read the end notes once you finish reading! And it's not all angsty, I swear! 
> 
> Trigger Warning: drunken sex, someone being sick because of alcohol, descriptions of anxiety & emetophobic thoughts

Kyungsoo sighed heavily and, with his hands flat on the dirty vanity top, looked up at himself in the lopsided mirror.

He hadn’t planned on getting drunk; hell, he hadn’t even planned on getting any alcohol at all in his system to begin with. He had tried to dance the night away, had found that he couldn’t bring himself to move without some sort of help, and so alcohol was the help, never wanted, but very much needed.

Then, without truly comprehending how, he had found himself in the Cloud 9’s incredibly cramped and unwelcoming men’s restrooms, his chest heaving and his forehead sweaty.

Cloud 9, because it’s just a heavenly place here, right? Right.

He regretted all of this now – drinking and omitting to sip on water. Dancing too hard, alone. Drinking and letting himself be carried away. He induced, all by himself, his current bout of anxiety – or whatever that was, it came with a pounding heart, unsteady hands and frantic thoughts about everything and nothing all at once.

It made him remember why he had always hated being drunk: he wasn’t in control of anything and nausea would, without fault, become the leech-like friend that would follow him through the night and the following days.

And he hated nausea with all of his might.

He hated being sick with all of his might.

The bathroom wall tiles were bleak and cracked in some places while the mirror was, truly, a vestige of the bar’s intoxicated clients with its numerous writings as well as white, suspicious looking spots. His reflection was blurry, and for this reason Kyungsoo couldn’t focus on the detail of his very own face. One would think he knew his own appearance very well and could thus decipher it through the alcohol-induced fog, but at that moment he all but looked like a stranger to his own gaze.

Probably the remnants of his panic attack – or, again, whatever that was – that made him feel disconnected, like he didn’t truly belong here in the world of living. That made him aware, more than anything else, of an urge to hide – his reason for currently being at that specific spot.

Or maybe it was the alcohol’s fault entirely. After all, his senses were a mess. Or maybe his eyes were acting up again. Did he put lenses on before leaving his apartment or did he forget them –

He didn’t know. He just didn’t know.

He breathed in through his nose and then out, slowly, exuberantly slowly. The oncoming wave of dizziness passed a few gratings seconds. Relief found his limbs for a brief instant, then faded out as quickly as it had appeared.

So his hands, still on the counter top, clenched anew, and his brittle nails scratched at the ceramic, dried soap coming off to gather under them. The sensation made him gag a bit. His chest constricted further and then, a bit of tension was released, once again. He gasped for air.

He was okay. The fearsome sensations would pass, eventually – they had to. The waves of panic-filled, drunken nausea would leave alongside the rest. He just needed to wait a bit more, a tiny bit more, just so that the alcohol would vanish from his blood, his liver and his brain.

Then, seeing clearly would once more be possible.

Thinking straight would be attainable.

He wouldn’t scare himself with his own uncontrollable actions and reactions.

He wouldn’t be afraid of his own body.

The door opened and a dark silhouette slipped in, making for the first available stall.

It stopped in its tracks as if to consider Kyungsoo, still hunched over the sink. He noticed, vaguely, that he was being looked at, but couldn’t bring himself to care enough to look. Too hard, and utterly pointless.

The edges of his vision were too fuzzy. He should’ve stayed in one of the tight stalls if he didn’t want to be noticed by anyone.

So instead of giving the other any attention, he focused back on his own being, or at the very least tried to do so.

Such a pitiful, terrible mistake as well as a difficult thing to do considering the only reference he had was his own mental distress.

The sole thing it achieved was bringing back the taste of bile and fermented fluids on his tongue, and he coughed once, twice, then retched pathetically above the filthy sink.

A few seconds went by. He sought fresh air, but it never came. All he got was the smell of alcoholic drinks and sweat lingering into his nostrils.

He had avoided puking for what felt like an umpteenth time, but somehow he was also getting closer to it, he had a feeling, because of his stress.

His eyes were burning. He bit down on his lower lip, hard, until blood was drawn out. The taste of it was delectable in comparison to what he’d previously ingested in the evening.

That was when he realised a voice, unknown, was reaching out to him through the mist of his disjointed thoughts.

The dark silhouette, or rather the stranger behind him, had a warm hand on his shoulder.

Uncomfortably warm, too. He batted it away. He needed crisp air, icy skin, not burning hands and hot breaths on his nape.

“Sorry,” the guy muttered, his tone uncertain. He put some space between them. “Ehm – Are you alright?”

Kyungsoo spun around, the soles of his sneakers squeaking on the tiling. He scowled, but he was actually only trying to get a good look at the new arrival.

Sun-kissed skin and perfectly sculpted lips.

Pimple scars on his jaw line and stubble on his chin.

Enthralling, deep, dark chocolate eyes, cloudy rings under them.

Kyungsoo didn’t know what to say. He stepped back and his rear hit the sink’s humid ceramic. He flinched, shivers caused by disgust escalating his spine.

The man in front of him raised an eyebrow, visibly unsettled by Kyungsoo’s odd behaviour.

Then, pursing his pretty lips, “Are you okay? Do you need help? I can call someone if you need to get back home.”

Such a nice offer coming from a pure stranger with hypnotic eyes.

The drunk boy considered his answer for a moment. Did he need help? Was he okay? Did he need to get back home?

No, he wasn’t really okay. As for the help, he simply didn’t know. But he was aware of not wanting to go back home at the moment.

“Not really okay. But it’s fine. Dance with me?”

It didn’t make any sense, but the stranger, crazily enough, nodded. He offered a hand to Kyungsoo, and together they found their way back to the dance floor.

 

The stranger’s hand was, quite honestly, at least as clammy as Kyungsoo’s own. His chestnut hair was a mess, and so was his attire, but he couldn’t find it in himself to describe the other as hideous or repulsive.

He was anything but.

Untamed, unkempt, definitely, but not hideous.

He had, for lack of a better justification, this overwhelmingly charismatic aura.

His legs, thin as revealed by holed skinny jeans, were long, very long, and so were his arms. There was a grace to them that Kyungsoo could never have achieved with his shorter, sturdier limbs, a grace that came with physical predispositions and not simply hard work. His shoulders were slouched forward under the weight of a black jacket, but he still stood straighter and taller than Kyungsoo.

He was an impressive yet elusive figure. Maybe it was because of his almost impenetrable silence once they left the bathroom – and this was a contradictory feeling to have considering the loud music blasting from the small stage’s speakers. And still his bronze skin, imperfect, and his lips, full, added something more sensual to the whole picture.

His expression was vacant as he pulled Kyungsoo through the crowd, fingers brushing the inside of his wrist as he guided him to a section where they could actually stand without being crushed.

The drunken man didn’t know of the stranger’s intention. He couldn’t fathom his reaction, his bringing him to the dance floor, at all, even though he was the one who’d initiated something in the first place.

Still, he needed the distraction and company, if only to escape his day and failures for a bit longer.

When they finally reached a relatively empty corner of the floor, the stranger grabbed Kyungsoo by the shoulders, holding him in place to look directly into his eyes. “Do you really just want to dance? Are you sure you’re alright?” He appeared dead serious, but Kyungsoo instead noticed that his timbre was as satisfying as the crackle of the fire to his ears.

He tilted his head to the side and stared back at the taller man. He then swallowed, noting that his mouth was incredibly dry, and said, “Yes. Please, it’s the only thing I want. You can give me that, right?”

He didn’t intend to make his tone pleading or sultry in any way, but to see the slightest flush appear on the stranger’s cheeks was almost endearing. He also seemingly hesitated, pondered for a while on what to do with Kyungsoo – and it made him feel like he waited about a lifetime or so.

Then, he was pulling him in anew, and as soon as he started moving, it was made evident that he was a dancer. And if he wasn’t, then he was definitely born with a talent for the coordination of his gestures into an expressive yet simply improvised choreography.

It soon became alluring to watch and definitely impossible to reproduce, but Kyungsoo still let himself be carried around, let himself be handled, let himself be dragged into an impromptu shared dance.

It was a break from his panic, a break from his day, a break from his thoughts.

The stranger’s hands eventually found his hips, and it electrified him. Mingled with the fire in his limbs and his ever present nausea, it was far from being the best feeling, but he reveled in it, let himself feel a bit more human and less anxious as foreign fingers found his flesh.

He let it happen, let his arms find their way around the other’s shoulders, because maybe, maybe he could indulge in some fantasies of being saved for tonight.

He pushed away the creeping fears, fears of vomiting, fears of fainting, fears of losing control, and closed his eyes, trying to escape his body.

If the other noticed his predicament, he said nothing. And if he truly chose to keep silent about it, Kyungsoo could appreciate that.

It helped him in forgetting his obsessive fears and it reminded him there was more to his life than just overstressing every single one of his actions.

 

“I want you to fuck me.”  

The words came out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to process them.

Clearly, they were dictated by his dick and not his still intoxicated prefrontal cortex. It was a wonder the former was even awake and responding, but passionate kissing and groping in the apartment’s corridor did help in firing him up. And yet, this honesty was a surprise even to Kyungsoo, for he was never really one to be able to indulge in sex after such a tormented evening.

And, in a way, the torment wasn’t quite over. It was lurking at the far back of his mind, very much present and hidden behind brash choices.

It would stay there until he became sober and enough time passed that he would be able to distance himself from the sources of his anxieties.

Under him, the stranger froze, hesitant to carry on. Kyungsoo was currently straddling him and, feeling somewhat audacious and unwilling to give up now, he forced his hips down, his legs spreading a bit to close the distance between their crotches. He got a contained but revealing groan in return. He shivered as he heard it, but kept his eyes steady on the other male’s expression, awaiting a reply. “So?”

“You don’t even know my name.” His voice, soft, almost had a pouty quality to it. Looking into those dark eyes Kyungsoo could almost see the arousal, the unmistakable lust – but it was being held back by their circumstances.

He could understand the other’s caution.

They were complete strangers to each other, and one of them was very much drunk.

But where some would readily take advantage of a drunk person, others considered it differently. Maybe this was this stranger’s case, and that even though he’d already begun to indulge in intimate actions with him.

At that precise moment, he knew he wanted the man under him. He supposed that included knowing his name, too. Maybe he’d get to know him better afterward… Maybe, just maybe.

Kyungsoo had been drunk since he’d met him in the Cloud 9 men’s restrooms, but he wasn’t that smashed that he couldn’t tell if the other was nice or not.

All evening, he had been nothing but considerate and easygoing toward Kyungsoo. (In his own quiet way, sort of.)

“Alright, then,” he conceded, his voice falsely composed, “What’s your name?”

Kyungsoo felt everything but in control. There was heat in the pit of his stomach, delicious heat waiting to be put out in the most satisfying of ways, and a desire to be… taken care of. To forget about the bothering things.

And, hidden under everything else, a curiosity toward the other.

He tried to keep it all out of his words. He tried to appear… dominant, or something, and not panicked because of a possible upcoming rejection.

But the stranger simply answered. “Jongin. What’s your name?”

Their meeting definitely didn’t follow the traditional order of things. Instead of starting with them talking and asking each other’s names, it had begun with dancing, then walking, then kissing, then groping and feeling each other up on the stranger – no, Jongin’s queen-sized bed.

Right from the start, it had been messy.

Kyungsoo’s legs were incredibly unsteady as they’d exited the bar; and Jongin had promptly offered Kyungsoo physical support in the shape of his shoulders as well as an arm around his waist, to keep him grounded.

It hadn’t prevented him from swaying from side to side, but at least he hadn’t fallen and hit his head on the sidewalk.

And as they’d neared his, say, companion’s apartment, or what he’d figured must be his apartment, he’d let his hands grab more than what would usually be allowed. It was almost amazing that the other hadn’t stopped him right at that moment.

No, instead, he’d responded with equally inquisitive, equally wandering hands, and as soon as they’d reached the entrance hall, their lips had found each other in a very sweet first kiss.

Sure, it had tasted of alcohol and a hint of cigarette.

Yes, it had also quickly evolved into something more frenetic.

But it had still been… sweet.

“Kyungsoo. That’s… I mean, yeah. Kyungsoo.” And oh, he was still awkward and confused. Other things that alcohol didn’t help with were the structuration of his ideas and a clear enunciation.

He felt Jongin’s hands tighten on his hips. Then, and it left him almost awestruck, a small smile made its way on the other’s face. “Cute.” Everything and yet nothing about that single word was mocking. Just… amusement, endearment, whatever that was that had appeared in the other’s timbre.

And suddenly, his world spun. He found himself in a reverse position, the inside of his thighs still on each side of Jongin’s own, but he was the one under this time.

He didn’t mind.

Lips made their way to his own and he whimpered, his whole body tensing and burning. His hands were soon either finding a grip in Jongin’s hair or in his shirt, and he crossed his ankles behind the other’s back, seeking the friction of their intimate parts.

Jongin bit down on his lower lip then nibbled at it more gently. His tongue was soft and warm against his mouth and so he caved in, parting his lips. They engaged in something that was more a dance than a battle, not fighting for a dominance of sorts but rather bringing to life a way to make each other feel good.

Kyungsoo realised quickly enough that he really loved kissing Jongin and that, as drunk as he was, kissing someone never had felt this natural.

He stored the information away for further analysis; or maybe to delete it altogether if things didn’t turn out well later on.

Warm hands found the hem of his shirt just as he was starting to pull at Jongin’s clothing. They helped each other in trying to make the removal of textile efficient, but it was a tedious process because of the urgency behind their movements. Still, Kyungsoo lifted the other’s shirt first, then unzipped his skinny jeans with hands that definitely lacked coordination, and Jongin did the same to him right after albeit with steadier hands.

He helped Kyungsoo into a sitting position to take care of his top. Then, once Kyungsoo’s chest was unveiled and he could feel the cold air brushing against his skin and making his nipples erect, Jongin started picking at his pants until Kyungsoo raised his butt enough to make the slide of fabric easier.

It seemed he had no more convincing to do.

But suddenly, words exploded into the air that brought his spirits down a bit.

“I won’t fuck you. I don’t think right now is a good time.”

Way to deceive him, he thought.

He wouldn’t insist to the point of making Jongin angry. If he didn’t want to fuck him, he didn’t have to; but it was a bit difficult to keep the petulance out of his voice. “Why not? Is it because of me?” He probably didn’t look very confident at that particular moment because Jongin shook his head. “Not quite. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go all the way right now.”

That didn’t explain much. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “I’m not made of chocolate, you know.”

“But you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Not enough that I can’t say I want you to fuck me right now.”

A teasing smirk greeted his complaint. “I still want to take care of you, pretty boy, at least if you’ll let me.”

Kyungsoo flushed, and hard. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for it, but there was something entirely too cheesy about the other’s words. It made his dick twitch the slightest bit against his boxers, too, which was somewhat unexpected. He bit his lips yet again and tried to even his breathing, feeling all the more turned on – even though the other just straightly said he refused to fuck him.

It might as well have been an insult, but Kyungsoo found that he couldn’t bring his body to care more than that.

Instead, he let himself be handled.

 

The feeling of a finger inside of him was weird.

Not new, just weird.

It had been a while since he’d had the time to pleasure himself that way, let alone have someone else touch him, and so the first slide wasn’t easy even with the generously applied warming lube.

He’d been busy, oh so busy; searching for a job that would actually take him in and give him enough hours that he could pay for his rent and not just “sorry, more work experience is required, maybe come see us again in a couple months or years”.

Yeah, too busy and drained to experience anything else than frustration.

In all of his drunken stupor, he didn’t feel anything remotely close to pain. A discomfort, a window of time where his body adjusted to the unexpected presence of a first digit, yes, but no pain.

Instead, with his all of his limbs spread out on top of the bedsheets and Jongin fitting a hand between his buttocks, he felt free.

Freer than he’d ever felt in weeks.

Above him, words slipped from Jongin’s mouth. “You okay?” Kyungsoo didn’t even know him personally and he could already tell, even intoxicated, that the other had a knack for worrying about others. And if he could tell that in his current state, then it would probably be striking when he sobered up.

But then again, he didn’t mind. If anything, he had the impression he was worth something, worth enough that one would bother asking about his well-being.

And all of this kept the nausea away, for now.

He batted his eyelashes, making a show of himself by licking his upper lip and stretching his arms far, far until his hands reached Jongin’s shoulders to bring him closer. “I’m good. Great. Perfect.”

Jongin’s tight smile spoke of his doubts, but eventually lust hit him again and instead of leaving Kyungsoo empty, a second finger joined the first. He sighed, his walls clenching around the two digits inside of him, and reveled in the heat of the moment.

He wasn’t great nor perfect, but maybe, maybe he was at the very least okay. His mood was a lot better and finally, he’d managed to compromise on fingers instead of a penis, which wasn’t such a bad thing considering he wasn’t used to it anymore.

He did have a thought for his sober self who would be embarrassed by such a lack of restraint, but it was a bit too late to go back on everything that happened since he met Jongin.

Everything that happened since he found himself in the club’s terrible restrooms, unable to will some sort of panic attack away.

Everything that happened since he entered Cloud 9 and started drinking.

Always above him, Jongin had his lips parted and his half-lidded eyes darkened by want. His right hand was busy making sure the two inserted fingers explored him well while his left hand was holding Kyungsoo’s leg up for better access.

“You’re beautiful.”

These words took him by surprise. At the very same time, the other crooked his fingers just right, making blinding spots of white appear on Kyunsgoo’s retinas. He moaned, and found that his heart fluttered in a way that reminded him of a butterfly’s wings as the words played back in his dazed mind.

Beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

It might not have been true, but it certainly rang so to his ears for he wanted to believe it.

He wanted to believe that even with all of his failures and anxieties, he could be beautiful to someone. He wanted to believe that even though he was very much the lonely man, he could still be of worth to someone.

Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes and he willed them away, making sure to focus on the building tension in his crotch instead. Jongin didn’t notice; rather, he let his mouth discover Kyungsoo’s neck, his collarbone, his chest and nipples. He let out an appreciative hum at Kyungsoo’s single piercing on his right nipple, pulling at it gently with his teeth until Kyungsoo squirmed under him.

(That jewel was from a bet lost a long time ago.)

He cried out when finally, a warm hand reached for his aching member and caressed it, as a lover would and should. The pleasure became more palpable with each pull of Jongin’s hand on his cock and Kyungsoo belatedly realised a third finger was probing at his entrance.

It hurt the slightest bit once it slid alongside the others, and otherwise it was the kind of burn that only enhanced the bliss further.

In a way, all of this was quite ironic.

For he was drunk, but it was still the best sex he’d had in a long, long time.

And usually, drunken sex simply wasn’t his cup of tea.

He wriggled a bit, craving for the fingers to trust deeper and rub just there, right at that spot that he knew would make him cry and whine in a mix of oversensitivity and pure satisfaction.

It took a few tries, but eventually Jongin understood his silent pleas and focused on the movements of his fingers, paying close attention to Kyungsoo’s reactions. And at some point, he moved his fingers to the left and up, and there, there it was, there was that spot Kyungsoo wished for to be found.

He wailed, his eyes shut, his hips canting up to meet Jongin’s fingers and the other made sure the pressure never decreased, he maintained it and with his other hand even thumbed the tip of Kyungsoo’s member, playing with the precum that had gathered there.

It was good, too good; and soon enough, Kyungsoo’s world tilted over the edge. He saw white as he came, and white was his come as it covered Jongin’s hand, a bit of his chest and thighs.

The sluggishness that flooded his body made him want to fall asleep and never wake up.

It had been oh so nice; maybe too much to be true.

And he hadn’t even given anything to Jongin yet.

His arms trembled as he pushed himself up, wincing a bit as he realised his body was already a bit sore from all the tension it had been through.

He reached out with one hand for Jongin’s cheek, and the latter laid a kiss on his sweaty palm in an affectionate way, a bit of ivory at the corner of his pretty mouth.

He’d wiped clean a strike of Kyungsoo’s come from his own hand, as if curious to taste it.

The sight had caused tremors to shake Kyungsoo up for a good few seconds, and goosebumps had erupted all over his skin, making the hairs of his arms stand on end.

He knew that he would remember that for months to come.

And then was the time for him to give something back; to offer Jongin at least half of what Jongin had just gifted him in the forms of both pleasure and care.

He pushed him back on the bed so that his back collided with the blankets and he was now the one on top, and instantly began making his way south. He’d had one idea or two about having his own plush lips stretched around the other. He figured Jongin would appreciate it, too.  

And yet, the other stopped him, lifting his chin up with a considerate but firm grip and bringing him back up until their lips tasted each other again. “You look wasted. I think you should sleep.”

He huffed. He definitely felt heavy and dizzy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use his mouth. He knew how to use it.

“As if you’re going to be happy like that.” To make his strong dissatisfaction known, he waved at the other’s proud erection and poked its tip, noticing upon touching it that it was wet. Jongin gasped and grabbed his wrist almost instantly, a dark flush making its way onto his cheeks. The touch must’ve felt too sharp. 

He looked the tiniest bit annoyed at his insolence, and it made him laugh. Almost.

“Don’t do this, you.” He sputtered, pushing Kyungsoo until he was laying down on the bed.

He sighed with content; laying down felt better than standing or even crouching, so maybe Jongin was right. “Maybe you could… you know. Use my body.”

He threw that suggestion in the air, just like that. Jongin raised an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean, using your body? I won’t fuck you while you sleep or some shit like that.”

Kyungsoo shook his head, amused but not quite all present. “You should jerk off on top of me.”

He supposed that could become another good compromise for the both of them.

 

In the end, it did become a good compromise for the both of them.

At first, the pace Jongin picked up was somewhat lazy, as if he wasn’t yet convinced he should use Kyungsoo’s body as a testimony of his own pleasure. His strokes down his member were shorter than the ones upward, and the muscles in his thighs were flexing as he held himself up on his shins. Kyungsoo could see the beads of sweat making their way down his neck and into the edges of his collarbones, he could witness the twitches and pulses of Jongin’s cock partly hidden by a ring of his lubed fingers, he could see it all.

And even as he got closer and closer to sleep, he enjoyed it. 

He couldn’t truly take part in the other’s pleasure, but he at least was part of it in the way that Jongin accepted his proposition to masturbate on him.

And he’d keep his eyes open until the end of it all. He wanted to remember it.

The more Jongin got into it, the more his hips started moving, up and down, to meet his own hand. There was a sensuality to each of his moves that recalled to Kyungsoo’s memory their dancing at the bar. His fingers, as he’d noticed earlier as they were thrusting into him, were longer and thinner; they could reach more and encircle more.

He wished he could’ve appreciated them for even longer.

Jongin had made sure to use enough lube so that, should his strokes become rougher as they were now, he wouldn’t become sore. Kyungsoo felt tired flames of arousal dancing in the pit of his stomach, hungry at the sight of this spectacle yet already sated, and he whimpered in response to Jongin’s own high-pitched moan as he applied more pressure to the tip of his cock. He leaked, and some precum beaded down the length of his member by following the vein, brushed his balls and dripped on Kyungsoo’s stomach, just under his navel.

He shivered.

He reached out for Jongin’s ass with both his hands, grabbing at his flesh and pulling, and Jongin cried softly as he came, hard, all over Kyungsoo’s chest. A small stripe of white even landed on his lips and down his chin, and he never closed his eyes as he took in the sight of the other dragging his orgasm out for as long as possible before he finally let his body fall beside Kyungsoo’s.

 

Kyungsoo vaguely remembered that Jongin had cleaned them both up with a wet cloth. Then, he’d put on some pants and, albeit with some trouble, had done the same to Kyungsoo before settling in behind him with an arm draped over his waist. He’d felt maybe a bit too warm, but contentment had quickly overpowered everything else, giving him the peace he needed to find the land of dreams without difficulty.

 

And he’d have been grateful for the rest of his night to be completely uneventful.

Sadly, the toll alcohol had taken on his liver and stomach decided to make itself known in the most annoying of ways to him; by making him sick.

4:12 am had been the time indicated on the cellphone on the nightstand, presumably Jongin’s cellphone because Kyungsoo couldn’t recall where his own was. It had been the first thing that he could understand as factual.

The second thing he realised was also factual was the overwhelming wrenching of his guts, and he’d soon found himself up and on his feet after extricating himself from Jongin’s grip. He didn’t want to wake him up; there was no use in bothering the other with the consequences of his own mistakes.

He came upon the bathroom quickly enough.

He closed the door, but didn’t bother locking it properly, counting on his luck to be left alone.

The nausea was so severe he couldn’t help thinking he’d rather die than endure it one more second.   

But everything came up eventually, and he found himself hunched over the toilet, spasms dictating his body what to do.

He didn’t realise he was crying before it ended completely, and then, to add to his mortification, movement at the corner of his eyes caught his attention, revealing Jongin’s presence on the door’s threshold.

He looked all too sleepy, his hair a bird’s nest and his lips still swollen, but his words spoke of his awareness of the situation. “Rough night.”

There was nothing else than understanding in his voice and it made Kyungsoo cringe as more burning water filled his eyes. He avoided the other’s gaze.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, his throat sore. The taste of bile was strong on the back of his tongue and he swallowed audibly, trying to make it disappear.  

Jongin nodded but still made his way to him, flushing the toilet and helping him up. He took a small towel from the medicine cabinet above the sink and wetted it before handling it to Kyungsoo.

There was something about the way he looked at him that spoke of him knowing Kyungsoo wouldn’t appreciate to be treated as a child.

He washed his face with it and wiped his mouth last, his eyes stubbornly sticking to the bathroom’s floor, before a glass of water was presented to him. He took it without a word, drinking only half of it but still feeling a bit of relief spreading to his mind as his throat was soothed.

He hated being sick.

He hated being sick, but Jongin being there did make the usually bitter aftermath a bit better.

For instead of simply being bitter, he made it a bit sweeter.

 

They met the night before for the first time but their morning conversation was surprisingly carefree.

After his upset stomach had calmed down, Jongin had guided Kyungsoo back to his bedroom while encouraging him to get some more sleep. He hadn’t really opposed the idea; it was still early in the morning and his night definitely had been a tad bit too wild for his taste.

He’d fallen asleep in Jongin’s arms, and had woken up to an empty bed.

To make up for it, there was the scent of cooking food wafting in through the partly opened door.

It wasn’t exactly incredibly mouth-watering at the moment due to the queasiness still assailing his senses, but he was definitely hungry.

So he rose on shaky legs, the plant of his feet directly on the cold floor, and joined Jongin in the main room, a mix of a kitchen and a living, after putting a random t-shirt on.

The apartment wasn’t particularly new if the scraped off paint on some parts of the walls was any indication, but it was clean. Furthermore, the kitchen looked functional with its central island unit and its stainless steel appliances.

And now that he looked at Jongin, he appeared a lot younger than yesterday; actually, with his white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, he looked surprisingly soft, a bit more on the university student side than yesterday’s mysterious dancing beast look.

It took him by surprise. Now that he was sober and regretted some of last night choices, beside the sex, he could finally understand better who the other was exactly. And maybe he should’ve asked before.

“How old are you?”

And maybe he should’ve announced his presence to Jongin, who was behind the stove and apparently very much invested in the cooking of vegetables, because the latter jumped and dropped his chopsticks.

“Ah, I didn’t hear you coming in,” he began, something close to a puppy look on his face, “I – what did you say?”

Kyungsoo shook his head, assuring Jongin he was the one who should’ve made his presence known. “It’s alright, sorry. I, uh, how old are you?”

Because if Jongin was a minor and he didn’t know the night before, then maybe he’d like to know right now. And yes, many things pointed to the fact that Jongin most probably was of age, but still, he had to make sure.

Jongin raised an eyebrow at him, his tone casual as he answered. “I’m 21, why?”

His perplexed expression must’ve shown because Jongin instantly grimaced, “Is that too young?”

He certainly had seemed… older, but he wasn’t too young, either. Kyungsoo shook his head quickly, his hands up as if to appease the other, “Ah, no, don’t worry. I just thought you were… older.”

The 21 years old pouted while shrugging. There wasn’t much he could do about his age anyway and Kyungsoo knew that. “I’m 26.”

Jongin turned to him, looked at him from head to toe then frowned. “I thought you were younger than me.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes; he didn’t look that juvenile, did he? But Jongin caught on, “I didn’t mean – I mean, you looked… ah.” And failed to justify himself. Oh well.

It was funny more than anything, so Kyungsoo just sat on one of the chairs and waved his hand. “It’s alright, we were both in the wrong. And we’re legal anyway, so.”

Jongin worried his lower lip before nodding hesitantly, turning off the stove and grabbing some bowls and plates that he brought to the island. Some fruits, cooked vegetables, and rice.

He could do with that. “... I suppose I should thank you?”

Apparently, that was enough to make Jongin awkward. Red creeped on his cheeks and the tip of his ears and he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I mean, I… thought you might want something to eat.”

Kyungsoo acquiesced and began scooping some rice onto his plate.

Across him, Jongin stared for a while before he dared speak up once more. “What do you do?”

Kyungsoo raised his head, “What do I do? You mean, what’s my job?”

Jongin blinked then nodded. His question hadn’t been that precise.

Kyungsoo sighed and put the chopsticks back on the table. He thought over his answer for a minute.

He had a job, one that required him to work only two days a week in the afternoons to review, correct and translate some documents in a small gift shop, and it wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for when he’d graduated with knowledge in translation and linguistics from the university. But apparently, that’s all he had for now.

That, and if he didn’t find a real, full-time job in translation soon, he’d have to make the ends meet by working in a coffee shop or a retail store.

“I work at a gift shop. Well, I should be working in a translation firm but, you know.”

Jongin listened, then, “As an art student, I always thought translation and that kind of stuff would get you a job easily?”

Kyungsoo laughed lightly. It was a bit dry, too. Apparently, in his case, things couldn’t work out as they should. “I suppose. And arts, really?”

He had nothing against arts; he once dreamed to become a singer. He still liked to sing in the shower, too, but it was something that had grown more into a hobby than a passion.

His questioning made Jongin shy. “I’ve always liked to dance, alright? So I figured I’d at least… try to get closer to that in my line of work.”

“So you’re not studying dance?” Kyungsoo asked, his chin resting in his palm as he took a piece of apple and bit into it.

“No, right now I’m into the visual arts program,” he was playing with his rice as he said so, “and I’m dancing on the side. To be honest, the only reason I was at that bar was to vent out. Just gave back a project I’ve been working on for a couple months, so…”

Kyungsoo could understand, maybe, or at the very least try to imagine what it would be like to be a busy art student. He’d already gone through university and had finished about a year ago, but the all-nighters he’d pulled in times of need were still relatively fresh to his memory.

They talked a bit more as they ate, and Kyungsoo was relieved when he realised his stomach wasn’t going to protest any further.

He didn’t mention much regarding that; he didn’t explain why he was in the Cloud 9’s restrooms in the first place or why he started crying while being sick in the early morning in Jongin’s bathroom.

After all, his reactions could easily be understood as normal reaction: people get drunk too easily and people often cry when they vomit.

In Kyungsoo’s case, it was a bit of that and a bit of something else.

A bit of something more.

If they met again, maybe all of this would come up and then he would reveal more of himself. For now, he kept a safe distance.

He kept a safe distance, but he hoped almost desperately that this wouldn’t be the end with Jongin.

 

Jongin offered him to shower before he left and he agreed with hast to take one. He did feel very gross and even if he had to put back on the same clothes, it’d still help him feel better.

By going through his things, he got his hand on his cellphone that had simply been hidden away in one of the pockets of his coat. It was a good thing he didn’t simply lose it at the bar or on the way back to the apartment. It wouldn’t even have been surprising.

It was as he turned on the faucet and waited for the water’s temperature to adjust that the door opened and he jumped, hiding behind the shower curtain to see Jongin just standing there. “Uh, is there something you need?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant considering they’d already seen each other naked. It’s just, say, he didn’t expect Jongin to barge in.

The younger seemed a bit embarrassed with his pink cheeks and pouty lips, but eventually he lifted his gaze from where it had been stuck on a tile. “I, uh, do you mind if I shower with you?”

He wasn’t against Jongin showering with him, no, but he definitely would need some more explanations as to why later on. Still, he shrugged internally, feeling a warmth invade some parts of his body, including his face. “I guess not.”

Relief was evident on Jongin’s face as he closed the door and started discarding his clothes. He didn’t add anything, but Kyungsoo did see a bit of a smile on his lips as he took the spot beside him in the tub.

 

They’d exchanged cellphone numbers.

And then, stupidly, Kyungsoo had suggested they do something. Like, now.

Jongin was free for the day, and so was he.

They agreed they’d stop by Kyungsoo’s apartment for him to get a new change of clothes, and then they’d wander around the city to look for art supplies for Jongin and maybe new spots where to apply for Kyungsoo.

And, who knew, maybe they’d fall in love along the way, too.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I wasn't supposed to write that and it turned out weird, but I needed to get it out of my system. I apologise in advance if the depictions of anxiety & emetophobia & such aren't accurate to you; I wrote with mostly my own perspective of the matter in mind and things I've read. Also, I didn't want to make Kyungsoo's problems the main thing. 
> 
> It became porn along the way... oops. 
> 
> Btw, constructive criticisms are appreciated! For real. And just comments to tell me what you've liked and so on.   
> It wasn't extensively corrected so feel free to point out typos and all. 
> 
> Thank you again <3 Still wondering if there should be a second part, but for now, consider it completed.


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